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As a multidisciplinary Mexican-American artist, my work arises from a profound need to be seen.

There’s something about eyes that’s always haunted me. Maybe it’s that strange feeling of being truly seen—like someone can read you without needing a single word. That’s why, in my work, the eyes multiply. Three, four… sometimes more. And no, it’s not about being weird for the sake of it. It’s about saying something without speaking. About creating discomfort, opening questions.

 

The Eye That Watches the Eye is a collection of 80 pieces that revolves around that silent tension between seeing and being seen. Because when a painting looks back at you, everything shifts. Who’s really watching whom? The viewer becomes part of the scene. That’s where the game begins.

 

The truth is, we live surrounded by invisible rules—how to look, how to appear, what’s “normal,” “beautiful,” or “acceptable.” And once you’ve internalized all those rules, you stop really seeing. That’s why my characters have extra eyes: to break the pattern. To see beyond. And hopefully, to get you to do the same.

 

Someone once stood in front of one of my pieces for a long time and said, “I feel like it’s looking through me.” That stuck with me—because that’s exactly the point. We all want to connect, to be acknowledged. But deep down, we’re also afraid of being truly seen.

 

These works don’t give answers. They ask questions. They’re a slightly uncomfortable mirror—a quiet invitation to look differently. And maybe, to let yourself be seen too.

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